Hero Heredity
by LindsayQ
Summary: Vietnam brings a whole new generation of Heroes together. FutureFic.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Hero Heredity  
Author: Supesfan88  
Summary: Vietnam brings a whole new generation of Heroes together.  
Warning: (possible) Swearing  
Disclaimer: Hogan and his Heroes are owned by CBS and not me. The rest of the characters though, are mine.  
A/N: After reading about the idea on about the Heroes children I came up with the idea for this story. I did have this part read over by a few people, but when I'm finished with it I'll get it completely Betaed.

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Growing up in Cleveland, Margaret never fathomed she'd ever be in a war, much less become a P.O.W. But unfortunately that's exactly what happened. Soon after entering nursing school in '70 she realized there was no way she'd be able to pay for everything and there was no way she'd bother her folks. They were already contending with putting her younger sister, Deborah, through college and surviving on the meagre allowances of the G.I. and Social Insurance pensions. There was no way they'd be able to assist her as well. Her older brother, Eddy's decision to join the Air Force the day he graduated high school was a mixed blessing. Even though they hadn't needed to help him through college, he'd been called up to Vietnam three years prior, and until Christmas of '68, they'd been incommunicado. The day they finally got a letter from him, a letter that now hung proudly on wall above the mantle between their folks wedding shot and a picture of all five of them at 4th of July picnic in 61', her father phoned into work for the first time in almost 15 years and sat Deborah and her down in the den and gave them their first, second and third beer.

Not knowing what else she could do, Margaret quickly joined the Air Force reserves as a nurse without telling her folks. She had kept quiet about her sudden disappearances and reappearances despite being grilled quite often by her father. She'd done a good job keeping that secret up until March of 1971. Due to the recent nursing shortage in North Vietnam, she was being called there to help. She would have to leave 3 weeks later. Telling her parents was like stabbing herself several times in the abdomen with a dull serrated knife. Her mother immediately broke down and quickly excused herself to the bedroom and her father got mad; madder than she had ever seen him before. For several tense minutes she sat still on the couch in the family room as he stomped around her yelling at the top of his voice and pointing an angry finger in her direction every couple seconds. Telling her that she was a fool, berating her for not coming to them if she needed money, and asking her if she thought about what she'd do if she was captured, if she knew what would happen to her if she was captured, if she remembered what he told her about his time in the Air Force during the War. She nodded but kept quiet. The War had always been a tough topic for him; especially his time in a P.O.W. camp, which she had recently learned was called Stalag 13. She'd never asked for anymore information than he offered for fear of upsetting him. It was the only thing she'd ever known that could bring her tough Irish father to tears.

Until the day she told him she was going to Vietnam.

She quickly excused herself to the downstairs washroom after he had calmed a bit, and when she came back to the living room she stopped dead and stared. Her father was sat in his chair with tear tracks and red eyes, trying his damndest to suck back on a sob. Not wanting to startle him, Margaret raced back through the kitchen and up the stairs to her old room, suddenly terrified. If just the idea of war could send such a stoic man into hysterics then just what had she gotten herself into?

On the day she left for Vietnam Deborah and her mother met her at the hanger. Her father had refused to come citing anger. But she knew it was much more like heartache, but didn't say a word for fear of upsetting her already distraught mother and just told her to tell him she loved him when she got back to Cleveland. The last time she saw her mother before taking off was from one of the tiny porthole windows of the cargo plane as it readied itself for take off. Her head was buried in sister's shoulder and her tiny frame shook so badly Deborah had her free arm wrapped tightly around her waist to keep her standing.

Margaret quickly pulled the collar of her jacket up around her ears, turned away and closed her eyes.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer:** In First Chapter.**  
Warning: Looked over but not professionally betaed.  
A/N: I've researched quite a lot about Vietnam, but no matter how much I may research I won't get it very much right, but hopefully it's still at least a little bit believable.

* * *

Almost a day after boarding the plane, she and several others finally exited it. They touched down somewhere outside the Udon Thani base, where she and a bunch of women were quickly shipped North to a small outpost just outside Dien Bien Phu, and after spending a couple days a sobbing mess in the nurses quarters, Margaret finally bucked up and got into her job.

Fighting flies, heat, fatigue and nausea, Margaret worked hard saving the lives of many and mourning the loss of the few she couldn't.

Exactly a month into her tour she got news of an incoming injured infantry squad, who had been ambushed not too far from there. In the group was a young Sergeant named Rob Carter, and as soon as she caught a glimpse of the icy blue eyes underneath the dirt, grime and blood that caked his face, she was hooked. Sergeant Carter had a deep cut over his left eye that took almost a dozen stitches to close, a broken collar bone and a gash on his right leg that ran the length of his ankle from the knee down. Luckily for him, most of his injuries were somewhat superficial and would require only time to heel. Some of the rest of the men in his squad were no where near as lucky, 2 died on the operating table and 1 died 2 days later from an unchecked staph infection.

In the days and weeks it took for Rob to get back to fighting status they'd grown quite close. At night, after her shifts, Margaret would sneak around to Rob's bed where they end up just talking until the sun came up.

For the first time since getting news of her tour Margaret finally started to see a bright spot in the darkness.

But the honeymoon period of their young relationship came to an abrupt halt in the early hours of the day Rob was to return to active duty, about 3 and a half weeks after the incident. While they were sleeping their camp was ambushed a bunch of They were literally dragged from their beds by a bunch of North Vietnamese soldiers and captured.

The most stricken soldier in their camp at the time was Staff Sergeant Franklin Greggs. He'd lost both legs and most of his eye sight in a failed attack on the Vietcong a week before and was still heavily medicated. There was absolutely no way he'd be able to move with the rest. So, the soldiers, in a moment of despicable brilliance, quickly forced the rest of them into a field just beyond the boundaries of the camp. And then had a couple soldiers go back for Greggs. Once they retrieved Greggs they proceeded by dropping the barely conscious man unceremoniously to the ground just a few feet in front of the terrified group of Americans. Then the highest ranking Vietnamese soldier pulled what looked like an American issue Colt .45 from a holster on his belt, held it flush to the centre of Greggs' forehead and without even blinking fired 2 shots in quick succession. The scream that ripped from her throat was quickly muffled by Rob as he forced her head into his chest. But despite Rob's lighting fast reflexes, the split second Margaret had seen after the execution, specifically the gore covered ground around the Sergeant's body, would be forever etched in her memory.

Not five minutes after the execution they were blindfolded and loaded onto a truck. The only thing Margaret felt for miles was the cold wind against her face and Rob's hand over hers. The only thing she heard for miles were moans and groans and muffled sobs from the rest. The harsh whispers of the Vietnamese Soldiers from the front of the truck went unnoticed as she focused on keeping as still and as calm as she could, a survival tactic she had learned during her time in Vietnam.

With every bump a different scene from her childhood would flash in her mind, the first time she remembered venturing to Bridgeport to visit her grandparents, Deborah's first day of school, her dad finally getting discharged from the Forces, her mom getting her first dishwasher, the day her dad brought home the colour TV for the Den, the time they ventured across country during the summer before Eddy start High School, and that time she caught Eddy in the backseat of the station wagon with Kelsey Jackman.

The last image that entered her head before the truck came to an abrupt stop was of that god awful photo of the four of them in the kitchen from four years prior that now sat on the bookshelf. Eddy had just gotten back from baseball practice, Deborah had just teased her hair to within an inch of its life, Margaret had just woken up from a homework induced nap, and her father was basically covered in oil from working on the car out back. Her mother, the only presentable one of the five, had gotten out of being in the picture because she'd taken it.

She bit back on a hard sob as two sets of hands grabbed her and violently yanked her from the truck.

God, she wanted to go home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: In the first chapter.**

* * *

After a quick registration process which consisted of having a small number almost literally gouged into your forearm and a thin layer of filthy gauze put over it, they were separated into smaller groups, and shoved in a random direction and told to walk. Thankfully Rob had been put in Margaret's group because otherwise she wasn't sure how much longer she would have lasted. As it was she could feel the fear she'd been so valiantly trying to impede, rising ever so steadily in her parched throat.

One by one they were literally thrown into a dark room with grime covered windows and told to keep quiet. The area around where Margaret landed was wet and sticky, but with what she cared not to think about. She barely had time to brace herself before another person landed on top of her and dug their elbows into her abdomen several times as they tried to right themselves again and move away. She must have blacked out because the next thing she knew someone was shaking her shoulder and calling her name. When she reopened her eyes and saw a dark figure leaning over her she gasped and jolted backwards. Only to resettle a few seconds later when the figure began speaking, it was Rob. He'd been trying for the past couple minutes to wake her and began to worry when he couldn't.

After reassuring Rob several times that she was fine, just sore from the blows to her stomach, Margaret worked herself into a sitting position and looked around as best she could. She couldn't see much beyond Rob, who was crouched in front of her, but she could hear several hushed voices within the confines of the bleak space. Some spoke with American accents, some had Australian accents, some even had a British accent, but every single one held an unmistakable tinge of fear that made her skin crawl even more than her surroundings ever could.

A sob she hadn't even felt rise in her throat suddenly broke free and nearly choked her as her chest heaved almost painfully and her body started to shake with the force of the heavy sobs. Margaret heard and then felt as Rob moved to a sitting position and slid in beside her and wrapped his arms around her and squeezed tight. For the second time in not even 24 hours the comforted had become the comforter and she did not see their roles reversing anytime soon.

--

Waking up from a nap she didn't remember taking, Margaret quickly found herself amidst a conversation between Rob and two other men. After noticing she was awake, Rob quickly introduced her to them, the taller shadow was Jay Kinchloe and the one with broad shoulders was Hank Newkirk. She introduced herself and had just finished asking why they had chosen Vietnam as a destination in the middle of a war, thinking they were civilian aides, when Jay informed her that he and Hank were both in the armed forces, U.S. and British, respectively, and that they had decided not long after being captured that they'd drop the formality of rank because it made their dire situation seem just that bit lighter.

Jay and Hank went on to tell them how and when they were captured. Jay's fireteam had been involved in some of the attacks on the Central Highlands in the South and had been doing well until they got sloppy during a heavy episode of fighting and fell quickly. Out of the team of four he was the only one that had made it to the camp whole. Hank got captured on his first mission as a Sergeant not far from the Central Highlands around the same time as Jay, and he was one of only eleven of the thirty-two guys that made up his platoon that managed to make it to camp alive. The breath seemed to catch in Margaret's throat as she processed their stories, and the only thing that brought her back from the edge of her mind was a tight squeeze of her hand and a slight shake of her shoulder by a watchful Rob.

They'd lost so much in such a short time and yet they still managed to survive in the dank hell hole of a camp. What kind of message was she sending if she was already having panic attacks not two hours in? Margaret was most certain that it definitely wasn't a message her father would have been proud of.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: In First Chapter  
**

**Hogan's Residence**  
**Cleveland, Ohio  
****April 2****nd**** 12:57 PM - 6 Days Later**

The alarm on her nightstand still went off every morning at 7 AM. Even with the prominent dent on the right side of the metal casing, right under the bell, which came as result of too many years of high velocity meetings with the wall, it still kept time perfectly. Her bed was still in the usual state of disarray it always was. The "Keep Calm and Carry On" poster he'd saved from the war, during one of his stints in England, still hung slightly off centre on the wall adjacent to her bed. Even the dog-eared copy of Grey's Anatomy still sat open on the desk with a pad of note paper and a pencil right beside it. Everything was the same and yet at the same time, nothing was.

They received news of her disappearance almost 4 days prior in the form of a letter. He hadn't let the letter out of his sight since opening it. He had read every line over and over again and then read it again just in case he had missed something. Anything that would tell him she was alright. Anything that would tell him she was still alive. Anything that would make his heart beat again. But it was always the same thing,

"May 29th, 1971

TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN:

The United States Air Force regrets to inform you that C.F.N. Hogan, Margaret Elizabeth's status has changed from Active Duty to M.I.A. as of the 29th day of the 5th month, 1971_. _Any progress made regardingtheirwhereabouts will be reported immediately to the nearest agency and handled accordingly.

Do not hesitate to contact one of our agencies with any questions you may have on the matter.

_**John D. Ryan**_

John D. Ryan, Gen  
Chief of Staff of the United States Air Force"

Many times over the past few days he'd come close to ripping the letter up into tiny, tiny pieces and burning it in the pit in the backyard, but then the weak side of him would rear its ugly head and he'd panic. When this happened he'd retreat to her room as fast as he possibly could, sit on the bed and glare down at the abused piece of letterhead he held in his trembling hand as if just thinking would make it burst into flames and make everything go back to the way it was before. But it never happened.

Nine times out of ten he'd end up sucking in huge gulps of air to ward off the gut wrenching sob that always seemed to bubble in his throat and wipe the traitorous tears from his eyes just enough to navigate the way back to his room down the hall. Where he would then proceed to lock the door, pick up the nearest heavy object, which always seemed to be the painted rock paperweight she had made for him for Father's Day in the fifth grade, and heave it against the nearest wall as hard as fast as he could and then pick it off the floor and throw it again. And again. And again. Until thoroughly exhausted, he'd collapse onto the bed and let the bite of exhaustion numb his senses before finally drifting off into an uneasy sleep.

Mary had been the one that got the door that day. He hadn't even been home. As soon as she had seen the man on the stoop dressed in full uniform and holding a letter she started to cry. Apparently, when she finally gathered enough courage to open the pristine envelope and read the damning words she'd lost all ability to stay upright and promptly collapsed. And she would have hit the floor if it hadn't been for the quick thinking Solider at the door who managed to catch her before her knees touched the ground, and assist her to the nearest chair. The soldier stayed with her until he had fetched her a glass of water and then promptly apologized and left her alone.

He had gotten the call at work a few minutes later. And after finally deciphering what his distraught wife was trying to tell him, broke every traffic law imaginable just to get home. He put it upon himself later that day to call Deborah at school and tell her about Margaret, but didn't have the heart to listen to her hysterical sobs and hung up.

Deborah had arrived by Taxi the day before and had had just enough composure left after the 2 hour plane ride to inform them of her plans to suspend her studies for the semester before breaking completely and disappearing up the stairs and into her old room.

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	5. Chapter 5

**North Vietnam  
****Hanoi P.O.W. camp  
****April 3****rd**** 12:57 AM**

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When she woke up alone in the corner she got upset, when she looked around and saw Rob, Hank, and a handful of other prisoners standing hunched over another prisoner lying prone on the ground she got worried. When she heard Hank whisper words to the prone prisoner and mention Jay's name she leapt into action and dashed across the room as quietly as she could.

When she finally made it to the group and looked down she swallowed hard and pushed her way to the forefront. Jay lay on the ground shaking as if he were seizing, but even in the darkness Margaret could see he was holding his head off the ground and looking at his hand, which was being held and examined by an unfamiliar female in a too big flack jacket. She got to her knees beside the woman and inquired what had happened. A deep second degree burn that extended from the tip of each digit to the wrist, the woman said in a thick British accent, brought on by a rather vicious round of burn torture.

After proclaiming that that was against the Geneva Convention, Margaret was quickly told to shut up by a rather perturbed sounding Australian, and then informed by the British woman holding Jay's hand that the Vietnamese had never embraced the Convention because they saw the U.S. bombing raids on them as crimes against humanity, thus nullifying any and all liability they may have had in the matter.

She quickly thanked the woman with a nod of her head and inquired as to what she could do to help already gripping her shirt, ready to tear off strips. When the Brit replied that there was nothing they could really do to help except dress it she handed over a strip of her shirt with a slight smile. When it looked as if the Brit wasn't going to take it the smile disappeared, but reappeared a few seconds later when she finally did with a corresponding smile and quickly and carefully wrapped it around Jay's hand.

She managed to get six strips off the bottom of both sides of her button up before she noticed a hand in front of her face holding a roll of gauze in pristine condition, unlike her filthy shirt. When she looked up she found herself staring into the wide eyes of a young woman and when the woman nodded Margaret took the gauze and promptly handed it to the Brit before turning back to the young woman and thanking her. The bright flash of teeth that showed when the woman grinned in response soothed the nauseated feeling in the pit of her stomach just long enough for her to grin back; her first real grin in almost 2 months.

They managed to calm Jay down later on enough to disperse again into their own cliques and settled down into a short but rather welcomed sleep. They'd be forced awake again in a few hours, like always. The Vietnamese had long ago decided that instead of spending the rest of their currently miserable lives asleep, the prisoners should be awake to enjoy every aspect of however long they had left and whatever form of torment their captors wished to practise that day. For the past two days their torment of choice had been starvation. Not one of Margaret's favourites, but definitely one of the better ones. All she had to do was take a look at Jays hand and know it was true. She maybe hungry, but at least she still had use of all her fingers and toes.

The Brit, who Margaret later learned to be (QARANC) Sister April Lebeau, stayed with Jay in the middle of the floor to watch over him. The young girl, Red Cross Aide Rhiannon Baker, was currently in the opposite corner of the room out cold with her head resting on Hank's shoulder. The man had taken it upon himself a while ago to help out the woman anyway he could, explaining it to be a show of the spirit of Hands across the Sea. Helping her at that moment in time required he be her pillow, and judging by the way Hank had wrapped himself around Rhiannon he didn't seem to be minding it all that much.

With a chaste kiss to the curve of Rob's neck, Margaret settled her head against the wall to her left and closed her eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Unbetaed**

**Hogan's Residence  
****Cleveland, Ohio  
****Two and a half weeks later - 5:48 PM **

Seconds after dinner that night the doorbell rang. He'd just turned towards the hall when Deborah bound down the stairs and straight towards the door. He stopped for a beat while she greeted the person behind the door and then started again, this time quicker, when the mystery person asked for Colonel Robert Hogan. Not even a split second later he found himself staring into a painfully familiar face. A bit older than he remember but the same man nonetheless. Carter.

Hogan noticed that his grip on the small suitcase the younger man held in his hand increased in time with the small smile that spread across his weathered face. In a quiet, stuttering voice Carter explained that his son had been taken prisoner and because of a friend in high places he'd been able to see exactly where and who they believed were being held captive with him. He had seen a girl on the list with the last name Hogan and after inquiring into her background found out she was the daughter of Colonel Hogan, he decided to make the leap and hunt him out.

Hogan didn't let him get any further before he wrapped his arms tightly around him and squeezed. A half sob escaped as he pulled back and just stared at Carter. He'd definitely aged in the twenty plus years they'd been apart. Most of his hair had greyed and thinned out and his skin looked rather leathery and wrinkled, but the spark of curiosity and enigmatic innocence that had drawn him to the man in the first place still shone in his eyes. Albeit, the shine was quite a bit dimmer than the years before, nonetheless it was still there and at that moment in time that made all the difference to Hogan.

Inviting the man inside, away from the chill of the early May evening, he quickly led Carter to the living room and poured him a drink. He watched with worried eyes as Carter reached a frail looking hand towards the glass and took a sip. He made sure he sat down before he made his approach as not to startle the weary looking man. He decided to start the conversation slow by asking Carter just all he'd been up to in the years between. In hindsight, he really wished he hadn't.

The way Carter's face fell as soon as he started explaining his life story told Hogan he should have just kept his mouth shut. Carter started by telling him about when he got married. Not long after getting back to the US to a young girl he'd made friends with while stationed in Fort Hood before being discharged. Her name was Dorothy and she was an Officers daughter. He and Dorothy quickly married in a quiet little church just outside Kileen on one of the only nights he hadn't been called back to Base. To the delight of her grandchild hungry parents, Dorothy became pregnant not even a year later. But the baby, a little girl they named Ellen, was still born. So, not wanting to face his in-laws while dealing with his grief, he and Dorothy moved further north and settled into a house in Wichita Falls; but ended up moving south to San Antonio after experiencing what Dorothy called, "A bitter cold winter" – it had snowed and everything. The house in San Antonio was where their son Rob was born nearly two years later. They had tried many times after Rob to have another baby, but it just hadn't been in the cards. Dorothy died of Cancer in 1964 and he retired from teaching and moved him and Rob back up to Austin to be closer to Dorothy's family.

After a rather tense pause, Carter's face fell further as he went on by informing the tiny group that had formed around him that Rob had joined the army in secret on his 18th birthday because he knew how Carter would have reacted if he had known, and was currently on his 3rd tour of duty in Vietnam. His face brightened a bit as he raised his head, stared Hogan in the eyes and admitted that he had named Rob after him. His son's full name was Robert Hogan Carter.


	7. Chapter 7

**North Vietnam****  
Hanoi P.O.W. camp****  
May 1****st**** 5:43 P.M. **

Margaret looked up when Jay passed her for the fifth time in as many minutes. The man's posture was stiff as he paced the few steps he allowed himself. Even in the darkness, she could see the worried expression on his face, which automatically had her wondering what she looked like. If Jay was visibly worried about Rob's disappearance then what did she look like?

The entire population of their dark prison seemed to startle at the noise made by the door as it was forced open. Hank and Jay started towards it, as did April and Rhiannon, but Margaret stayed crouched on the ground because she knew she'd be unable to face him if Rob returned anything but fine. At the first intake of breath from somewhere in the small crowd around the door, she hid her head in her arm and with the familiar quick cry of surprise from Rhiannon she sucked back on a sob and squeezed her eyes shut.

The door slammed shut a couple seconds later, only to reopen milliseconds later. An angered Vietnamese voice rang out only to be suddenly cut off by an aggravated reply in a familiar tone of voice. She listened closely for a while before realizing the replying voice was Lebeau. But she wasn't speaking Vietnamese. She couldn't. She was speaking French.

Margaret buried her head further in her arm at the sound of skin meeting skin soon after Lebeau started speaking because she knew what had happened. The accompanying scuffle of boots and then a quick slam of the door told her what her eyes couldn't. April had obviously been smacked for talking back and then someone, most likely Jay, had moved to retaliate, only to be held back just long enough for the soldier to disappear behind the door again.

She started a bit when a hand touched her shoulder but refused to lift her head and kept it bowed until Lebeau's quiet voice drew touched her ears. She looked up and immediately locked eyes with her. She tried to smile but could only grimace as Lebeau smiled back and wrapped her around her and drew her to her chest. Lebeau quietly explained that even though Rob may look bad for a couple weeks, especially his fingers (this group of soldiers seemed to have a sick fascination with mangling digits) Rob would be fine. Margaret tried to listen. She did. She just couldn't. Not when she could hear and feel every breath rattle in the woman's chest and almost literally count every rib. She couldn't listen to optimism when all she felt was pessimistic.

Margaret startled from her sleepless dreaming by the strange sensation of shaking. Holding her hand out in front of her face was the only thing that told her it wasn't her that was shaking. It took a choked sob from above her head to make her realize what was going on. Before she could come face to face with her though, April inhaled sharply and froze. Jay, who had snuck up while she worked herself into a sitting position, quickly took April's hand and gently pulled her to her feet. He pressed her head against his chest and then nodded ever so slightly in Margaret's direction and walked off with the tiny brunette tucked against his body

She watched the mismatched couple disappear into the dank darkness and then let her head fall against the wall once again and closed her eyes.

Rob, flanked by Hank and Rhiannon, appeared in front of her no more than 10 minutes later. Smiling like an idiot and leaning almost completely on Hank. Hank quickly explained that as soon as he'd woken up, Rob had insisted on seeing her, and short of crawling to her on his gnarled hands and bruised knees, he was going to get to her. She smiled back, albeit with a much less pronounced grin and scooted over just a bit. Hank nodded his thanks as Rhiannon stepped back, and then as gently as the Brit possibly could, set Rob on the ground beside Margaret and then quickly pulled back and limped away. Rhiannon stayed back just long enough to smile at the wounded couple, before following behind Hank, to the other side of the room.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: IN THE FIRST CHAPTER**

**  
Hogan's Residence  
****Cleveland, Ohio  
****May 4****th**** 10:20 A.M.**

* * *

Mary, Deborah, and Carter, who had graciously offered to help, had been dutifully clearing away the breakfast dishes when the phone in the living room rang. The extra long rings alerted everyone to the fact that it was an overseas call. Everyone immediate froze and turned to stare into the living room, and then the three people at the sink turned in unison to the man sitting at the kitchen table. Hogan swallowed the suddenly heavy lump in his throat, rose carefully from his chair, and walked stiffly into the living room. Mary, Deborah, and Carter followed seconds later and quickly gathered around the man.

Before lifting the receiver from the cradle, Hogan silently prayed to a God he wasn't even sure was there, and then nodded and lifted it to his ear. He choked out his greeting and then closed his eyes tightly - the only way he could think of, of shielding himself from, what he figured was impending misery.

However, as soon as the man on the other end spoke, his eyes flew open and he smirked. His eyes met Carter's just as quick and Carter smiled and then turned to the two beside him and told them whom it most likely was. Louis LeBeau, a friend from the war. When Hogan nodded in affirmation Carter grinned and walked silently to the armchair closest to the chair Hogan sat in, and listened to the conversation as best he could.

Hogan listened and replied when necessary and then laughed aloud and paled considerably almost as quickly. One look at the sudden ashen face made the on looking trio pale in unison and gather more closely. Seconds later, Hogan said his goodbye and hung up.

He stared at the expectant trio for a couple seconds and then smiled ever so slightly and rose shakily to his feet. He then slowly trudged into the kitchen and almost literally collapsed into the nearest chair. He waited until they appeared a couple seconds later before starting. He started with the nicest news. It had been LeBeau. He was calling from the British Ministry of Defence in Whitefall, Westminister, London. He and Newkirk were there on an invite from the newly appointed Chief of the Air Staff, Denis Spotswood, who Newkirk had been friendly with since the war.

When a curious Carter asked him why LeBeau was in England, Hogan took great delight in informing the younger man that LeBeau had been there since 1950. He had met a met a young woman in the Women's Auxiliary Air Force, not two months after the war, who had been based in and around Germany since 1943 and quickly decided to follow her back to England instead of going back to Paris. They apparently married not long after landing in England. A year later they had a son, Francis and not even a year after that a daughter, April. Sometime between Francis' and April's birth he had gotten a job in the kitchen at the Great Western Royal Hotel, a swanky British hotel. He happily relayed that four more kids followed later for the LeBeau's and that his youngest, Gregory, had just turned eleven, and his oldest and only grandchild, Lillian, just turned three.

Carter laughed aloud at the news of the Frenchmen being a grandfather and then inquired about Newkirk.

His smile grew as he began to tell Carter about the thrice-divorced Air Commodore. Newkirk moved back to England after the war where he was promptly promoted to Sergeant. He met a young teacher from Sheffield. They married, had a boy in 1947 they named Henry after her father, and divorced in 1949. He remained a bachelor until 1952.

Within the span of 1953, he got married again, gotten promoted to Flight sergeant and became a father again to a girl named Eileen. They had another child, James, the year after, and because of a situation he apparently refused to go into, they divorced in 1955. Hogan paused when Carter burst into a fit of laughter before commenting on just how like Newkirk that sounded.

He shared Carter's mirth for a few seconds before continuing – Newkirk was offered the chance to be a Flight Lieutenant, which he took surprisingly enough, and spent the next 2 years in Northern Ireland based at Aldergrove. Not long after getting to Ireland, he got wind of the death of his second ex wife in a car accident.

Hogan paused and swallowed at the broken look in Carter's eyes, but continued when Carter nodded.

Newkirk quickly flew back to England on a pass, applied, and eventually won full custody of his two youngest children. He flew back to Ireland 2 months later with Eileen, James and his new wife, the lawyer he had hired to help him with his case against his exes' parents. They had a boy, Stephen not long after and separated not long after that. She disappeared back to England sometime later, but not before giving him full custody of Stephen. Lebeau had told him that apparently, she had told Newkirk not long before disappearing that she wasn't cut out to be an R.A.F. wife.

Mary, who had, as of yet, stayed silent, spoke up by asking rhetorically if the "poor" man ever did manage to find love. Hogan nodded and continued yet again.

He returned to England at the beginning of 58' as a Wing Commander, settled into a flat on the east side of London, and was just able to rework his relationship with his first wife, who still lived in Sheffield, before she died of cancer the following year.

Again, he paused in respect for Carter and didn't continue until he nodded.

His oldest Henry was in secondary school and hadn't wanted to relocate in the middle of the school year. Therefore, Newkirk requested a transfer to Waddington, the closest base to Sheffield, and moved his young family into his first wife's family home to be with Henry.

He lived quite comfortably as a single father for almost four whole years until he met another single parent, Cora. He dated her for almost 4 months before he asked her to move in with him. Cora, along with her three children moved in with Newkirk and his four not long after New Year 1963, and except for the addition of one more child, Marilyn, in 1966, and a couple spats here and there, Newkirk and Cora were still coexisting quite nicely. Newkirk, after getting the ok from Cora, had refused to marry in case it all when south afterwards. He figured he was getting too old for divorce anyway.

Carter smiled appreciatively then asked why LeBeau had phoned from the Ministry of Defence when he could have surely gotten their number from a regular phone book somewhere. He was sure that the Britons weren't fighting in Viet Nam. Hogan swallowed the encroaching dread and lowered his head before he started on with another story.

Like Carter's son, Rob, Newkirk's oldest, Henry, joined the Forces on the eve of his 18th birthday. He decided against living in his fathers shadow and joined the army instead of the Air Force. He was quickly assigned to the Royal Engineers and then, once B.T. was done, he was quickly shipped to Cyprus, and after partaking in a handful of difficult assignments, and after a few mysterious positive reference letters, he was promoted to Junior Technician. After only a couple more months in Cyprus, and against what Newkirk apparently wanted, once the opportunity arose, Henry put in for a transfer to the No. 2 Squadron in the R.A.A.F.

Carter spoke up again and asked why he would want to volunteer for such a harsh transfer, but then paled and swallowed. Hogan nodded. No. 2 Squadron was right in the heat of it in Viet Nam. Henry had wanted to fight.

Deborah and Mary gasped as Carter drew away from the group and crossed his arms over his chest. He'd been waiting for the girls reaction, but Carter's had taken Hogan by surprise. He quietly called the man's name and then slowly rose to his feet. Carter must have noticed he'd moved, because as soon as Hogan took a step towards him Carter blinked and then sighed. Hogan paused and flinched at the pain in the younger man's voice as he asked quite possibly the hardest question he'd ever face.

Weren't their kids supposed to be smarter than them?


End file.
